Popcorn
by Deathdoesn't-matter
Summary: Oneshot.  The Condor lays broken, and Stork doesn't like the way it got to be in that condition.


'Popcorn'

A little something by: **Deathdoesn't-matter**

In a remote Terra, laying bare on rocky, charred soil, was the Condor. The metallic hull, abused and totaled with spiderweb cracks here and there, refracted what light it could on the warm, sunny day. The Condor itself lay unevenly on the Terra, with a slight tilt. Behind the Condor, the ground was crushed, torn, destroyed... evidence that the Condor had crashed landed and slid to a violent stop.

The bridge of the Condor was in an unusual state of disarray, with pipes twisted into gnarly splinters, with hazy steam filtering through with a hiss. Sparks emitted chaotically from consoles. Gauges had cracked, and meters spun wildly around in circles. The floor was slick with a shiny, bluish fluid dripping out from a very important pipe that Stork had personally adorned with a sign that proclaimed, in bold, crimson letters, "MAIN COOLANT! ABANDON ALL HOPE IF DAMAGED!"

All of the Storm Hawks are present. Finn, who suddenly has a case of the Shifty Eye Syndrome, is holding a large bowl full of sticky, yellowed popcorn oozing butter, which he is doing his best to eat silently, one piece at a time. Stork has a horrified look plastered on his face, surveying the damage with mouth agape and eyes impossibly wide. The rest of the Storm Hawks are unnaturally quiet, trying to avoid looking at the damage and at Stork.

Aerrow gathers courage and remarks, "Well, it doesn't look all that bad."

Stork ever so slowly turns and looks at Aerrow. It's a look that communicates, and communicates well. The Condor is, for all intents and purposes, Stork's baby. Aerrow breaks eye contact.

"Doesn't look all that bad?" Stork tests the words with his mouth, taking his time, pronouncing each syllable deliberately.

Behind Stork, a metallic piece of ceiling groans, splits, and falls to the deck with a resounding _clang!_

Stork's eye twitched.

"Doesn't look all that bad?" Stork repeats, "The Condor is more banged up than all of the Talons in Cyclonia could do if given a week alone with it!"

Stork is, of course, exaggerating. Slightly.

Piper decides to speak up, "Oh, come on, Stork! It's not like we can't fix the old bird. In no time flat we'll have her up in the skies once more."

"Oh, I know that. The Condor is repairable. I know that. It's just that the Condor got wrecked in a way that was, and is, completely avoidable. If we had been taken down by a swarm of Talons, believe me, I'd understand completely. If one of the engines just decided today was the day to blow up, believe me, I'd understand completely. If the whole world decided to pick on ole' Stork today and have the Condor just fall apart for no reason, believe me, I'd understand completely."

Stork sighs, a long and warped thing.

"I just have one question," Stork asks, "Which one of you let Finn make popcorn?"

The other Storm Hawks back away from and point at Junko, who looks guilty.

"Junko? Ah. Ha!" Is all Stork can manage at first.

"Well, gee, Stork," Junko struggles for the next few words, "I'm... sorry?"

Finn puts more popcorn into his mouth, butter seeping through his fingers.

"Sorry? I believe you. But, Junko, tell me... Exactly how many times has everyone been told to not let Finn make popcorn?"

"...I forgot."

"How many signs are up in the kitchen, specifically stating not to let Finn make popcorn?"

"I... forgot."

"I see. Junko, do you remember why Finn is not allowed to make popcorn?"

"Because... When Finn makes popcorn... Bad stuff happens?" Junko chooses his words as carefully as he can.

"Yes, Junko, yes. Because, when Finn makes popcorn 'bad stuff happens.' Don't tell me you forgot the last time this happened at the doomed Terra Noroxia? Let me remind you. Because of Finn there now is _no_ Terra Noroxia. It was _obliterated _in a pretty flash of white light."

Finn shovels a fist full of popcorn into his mouth, chews, swallows.

Junko shifts around, nervously.

"Okay! That's enough Stork! You've got your message through." Aerrow says.

Follow the Aerrow's lead, Piper joins in, "Yeah, Stork, let's just fix up the Condor and just forget about this whole thing."

"Fine! But, I have one more question to ask," Stork says, expression now completely neutral, "Finn? Is that popcorn tasty?"

Finn, feeling as if he were some specimen underneath a microscope with Stork's great, big yellowed eye peering down at him, nearly chokes on popcorn before nodding his head and muttered a muffled, "Uh-huh."

"Good. That's... good. I'm glad that the popcorn you've made is delicious. The popcorn that wrecked the Condor, leaving it off no better than a beached whale on the stinging sands of--!"

"No more, Stork! That's enough! Let's just fix the Condor and get out of here." Aerrow interrupts.

"Fine! But Junko has to fix the parts damaged the worst and I'm not going to help him!"

"Alright," Junko says, shrugging.

"I'll go get the tools," Aerrow says, "Piper grab some spare parts. Finn? Finish your popcorn fast."

Finn nods as the two Storm Hawks leave the bridge, somehow fitting more popcorn into his mouth. He offers some to Junko, "Want some?"

Junko reaches over with a hand and takes a hearty portion of the popcorn, and shoves it down his throat, barely pausing to chew, lips dripping butter.

Radarr toes the coolant on the floor, finds it to his liking, and jumps into a deep puddle, splashing the liquid up into the air in great goblets. Stork, of course, is sprayed and soon drenched.

Stork says nothing, silently reminding himself that he is only with the Storm Hawks until something better comes around. And, Stork is finding, his standards for what qualifies as 'better' is plummeting.


End file.
